


R U Mine?

by SasoriScorpion



Category: Naruto
Genre: Inspired by R U Mine (Arctic Monkeys), Love obsessive, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of the Akatsuki, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 16:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11212191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SasoriScorpion/pseuds/SasoriScorpion
Summary: His infatuation controlled him like the puppet he was.





	R U Mine?

It bothered Sasori to the very core— he _never_ left his mind. _He_ brought so much happiness, but at the same time anxiety. By god _his_ smile could light up worlds, but with Sasori's ways, with his interests- he was so afraid of scaring him off for being so _"fucking creepy,"_  to put it in _his_ tone of voice. _He_ was the shape of heartbreaks but by god whatever pain he felt chasing after _him_ was so worth it. Everything was worth trying, no, _silently_ _scrambling_ to be _his_. _He_ was the only thing that traversed between his ears when Sasori was alone by the end of the day. He _could_ curse that mission that pushed him to the beginning of the path he was taking for him— or every moment that they had spent together at the Akatsuki base, but the puppeteer wouldn't dare insult the blessing he was given.

Maybe it bothered Sasori because he _loathed_ feeling emotions. Or maybe because he was afraid of losing control of himself. Or chasing away the man. _His_ man. But _he_ couldn't help that he had managed to implant the seeds of affection, which had soon blossomed into love in his heart. This man _controlled_ him like the puppet he was, without knowing and without recognizing he did. That religious man had Sasori wrapped around his finger and he had no idea that he done so in the first place. But he couldn't lose _him_. The thought paralyzed him, this was different from Sandaime. With Sandaime the thought of killing him didn't hurt him one bit. The thought of losing that silver haired priest? It crippled him. For the first time Sasori found himself _drowning_ in the darkest abyss just by one single thought; if he could not see the man smile, if he could not hear that voice, that sound that used to be oh so obnoxious and strident but became thick, silvery and raucous to the redhead, if he could not bathe in the man's presence. Those ifs, _those what ifs_ smothered him with _fear_ and _despondency_.

  
Who would have thunk that the puppet master would let these feelings sneak up out of nowhere and take a hold of his cold, practically _nonexistent_ heart? If he was sure of one thing, Sasori was afraid of losing him.  More so than he had ever been afraid of losing _anyone_ in his entire thirty plus years of life. It had taken the puppeteer so long to figure out that the crippling darkness he felt was caused by fear. About three months to be exact. Every moment _he_ wasn't near him Sasori felt himself going crazy, yet he held those thoughts down. Control over himself was important. But god damn he'd give everything he had to be _his_. To be near _him_. Because here sure as hell was not where he wanted to be. So desperate to be his, but too restrained, shy, anxious, and reserved to make a move. Enough so to prevent himself from asking god's blessing to be his. Despite craving for more time with him; every brief moment they had was _not_ enough for him. No he needed more. _M o r e._ More of their conversations that turned from antagonistic to meaningful, _desirable_ memories. Sasori needed _his_ _everything_. Who gives a damn about gold when silver was more _striking_ , _strong_ , _resilient_ — silver represented him; silver meant perfection despite him being as imperfect as ever. Sasori would take his imperfections in a heartbeat.

  
The puppeteer found himself requesting more and more missions with _him_ ; but what could he say? That man was art in it's _purest_ form. Eternal— forever lasting. He was _everything_ Sasori aspired to be; and by that man's god the redhead _wished_ that man's partner could take a moment to appreciate the utter beauty _that_ man held. He was captivating; from the silver hair on the top of his head, to the piercing magenta eyes, to the way he moved when he killed someone. His scent, one of iron and cinnamon; blood and death. _He could kill him._ Even knowing that fact Sasori found himself not caring one bit. He _wanted_ every last bit of the man. _His_ rituals fascinated him, _if only_ those who complained noticed the many faces– from pained to pleasured that man made during them. If only they could appreciate how articulate the man's movements were— from the way he stabbed himself, to the absolute perfect circles he made. _He_ was god's given artwork. He was an artist in his own way. Or at least that's how Sasori saw him. The silver lining climbing on his desire.

  
Sasori was so god damn afraid of being obsessive, too possessive, but he swore if _anyone_ looked at him the same way he did secretly; he knew right then and there that he would kill them. Torch their body so they would _never_ be good enough to consider making into one of his own master pieces. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to stab _a l l five_ of that man's- no _his_ _man's_ partner every time he was mentioned. It deeply concerned Sasori that those thoughts even surfaced in his mind, for he respected Kakuzu to no end. But he wouldn't hesitate to brutally slaughter him if he stole _him_ away from him. _He_ wasn't even technically his. Sasori still _hoped_. He waited for him. Day after day. That man brought him hope. An emotion he had never, _truly_ felt in his entire life.

  
_'Give me your woes.'_ His thoughts demanded, _'I don't care how bad, intricate, petty, or small they are. I want your good days. I want your bad days. I want y o u. I'll solve all of your problems like a puzzle if it'll make you happy. If it could prove that I'm everything you want.'_

  
So he tortured himself.

  
Sasori tortured himself as he listened to his man speak of the one person who wouldn't give him the time of day. Even as he felt, restrained and buried, the emotion of his _fragile_ glass heart shattering into crumbs of chalice, the redhead sat through, shot of alcohol after shot until he couldn't feel the pain and could enjoy the other's presence peacefully; imagining that he was truly _his_ for a moment. Pitifully, but found refuge in the wishful thinking.

  
Month after month it was like this. Until months became a year. Then a year became two. Maybe he was at his wits end, everything felt so one sided— but truly Sasori was in love. Two years later and his infatuation _never_ ceased. His infatuation became something so deeper, something much more than what he could express in words. Those strong feelings crippled him; that damned Jashinist was _only_ thing that traversed between his ears even while the said man was present. The man made his head spin and he knew he needed to step away; take a break because he knew; Sasori _knew_ the priest _couldn't_ — oh god he couldn't even admit it. Trying to made his eyes burn, it made him _unstable_. Just as unstable as when the man's partner pushed him to get over all of his own internal conflicts. And with that he found himself drifting to the project of the perfect body— the perfect new existence he had begun designing. That perfect body could give him _more_ time. The time he so desperately needed in order to finally win him. But by the final time he heard Kakuzu's name uttered from his mouth the redhead lost it– silently. He never said a word as he left _him_ in that room after that long night of consoling.

  
_'I'll never understand why destiny would allow for people to meet when there's no way for them to be together.'_ He could only imagine some velvet morning. Satisfaction was for sure a distant memory.

  
Soon days of avoiding and ignoring became a week. A week became a month. A month became three. The feelings never left. Sasori should have known— the puppet master was so heart broken, yet stood taller than ever. It wouldn't be a week later before he found the other succeeding in _finally_ gaining his attention. Secretly Sasori was grateful that the man had done so— despite this being the the one moment he so desperately needed to forget _him_ , Sasori let him in. The thrill of the chase was worth it in the end; interrogations, apologies, and meldings were exchanged.

The first time they lied together was something _beautiful_. That moment he would remember for the rest of his life— it was the _first_ time he trusted someone with his body the first time. The _first_ time he poured emotions into something so primal the very first time _they_ did it. Yes, everything was moving so fast— but it was _worth_ it. Sasori couldn't give a damn if it meant that man was his and his alone. The redhead knew he _needed_ the good, the bad of what this new thing of theirs. Sasori _needed_ the deep end. He could imagine next moments between them and for once he considered religion for they brought him so much bliss to his life. They _silenced_ his internal struggle within himself. But inflamed it as well.

  
"Hidan.. Are you mine?" Were the words that uttered from him that night. Was he only his tonight? Or was he his tomorrow? His eternally? This was the first and only time he had and will ever asked for the reassurance. The single sentence that triggered the man asked to pour every last emotion he had into him.  If that man knew half of what he was thinking he'd run. Or embrace it. Sasori couldn't read him as well as he wanted to; every new moment together left room for the older male to discover something new. Did you know that despite not acting as intelligent that he was extremely observant? Sasori found him beautiful, his faults and flaws, his hidden talents, his way of thinking, the way his face lit up when he talked about his passions, the way they darkened when he talked about his passions. _Everything_ was beautiful. _He_ was art. _He_ was so much more intelligent than he looked without having the adequate book smarts to support any of the logic Sasori found in the statement his thoughts made.

  
_He_ was Sasori's greatest escape. _Finally_ the puppet master could _truly_ call him _his_. The only acceptable reason to lose track of time and space. The only person who was worth letting himself make everyone else wait. He'll never understand why he fell so hard for him, but he knew of no regrets in doing so, so long as he was allowed to run his fingers through _his_ soft silvery hair. So long as he was allowed to listen to the music the priest made known as a heartbeat Sasori didn't care what happened to himself. He _craved_ him in the most innocent forms, despite who he was, the things the _both_ of them were known to do— they were renegades, they were men. That didn't stop him from having the desire to say goodnight to him _every_ night, to give him forehead kisses that could heal _all_ of the mental damage and the indoctrination done to the silver haired man. To say that he adored him when he was at his worst, just as much as he did when he was at his best. He _craved_ him in ways where he just wanted to be next to him, and nothing more nor less than that. _That_ thought alone brought him to a place that one could consider paradise. It brought the puppet master patience, a concept he had no consideration for until the moment he allowed the other to claim him. _This_ man was his drug, stronger than any of the ones that he himself had ever fashioned. He knew the priest couldn't remove the scars the redhead had, or rewrite his past, but _the way_ he held him when he himself was in those rare moments of falling apart made him think that he had the power to rewrite the spell that bound him to the pain of the past.

  
The first time he saw him falling apart Sasori didn't even hesitate to put the pieces back together. They were symbiotic; a true team who could appreciate the strengths and weaknesses of each other without having to voice it. If only they were partners; they worked more efficiently, and caused less collateral damage than the rest of the pairs, including their own something that stood out, _however_ due to Kakuzu's anger issues no permanent arrangements could be made, thus there were many days they were separated. These moments always left the older male in worry. His mood dropped significantly when the other wasn't with him. That man became Sasori's light of his life, as soon as the other would leave on those oh so temporary moments, so did his happiness. The worried he held were not caused by fear of what he would do while he was out there, but caused by the thoughts of what others would do to him. Even with immortality he could still be harmed. And the redhead ever so feared his man never coming back. And detested when he came back covered in injuries not yet healed by what kept the very man alive. If the silver priest had not killed those who assaulted him, the red puppeteer sure would have.

 

It was like they couldn't help themselves but misbehave for days. That man made Sasori feel as young as he looked, he made him feel alive, as if he was truly living in this world. _He_ grounded him. Make no mistake that Sasori would fight and defend him for the very way he made him feel; even if he didn't understand his own emotions Sasori was _his_ puppet on a string. Willingly he would hand over every single bit of him, every bit of his soul was the Jashinist's, and obsessively he found himself quite satisfied with that. The silver haired priest could map out and memorize every bit of his body if it meant he could be his— and he would strive to memorize every sound the younger male made as if it were his favorite song sung live only for the single audience of him. He couldn't help himself; all he wanted was to hear that the priest was his and _his_ alone.

  
Sasori would make it known to the world that Hidan was his as he was Hidan's. That his infatuation controlled him like the puppet he was.

**Author's Note:**

> This was purposely written to only mention Hidan's name a few times. 
> 
> This fic was based off of this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qaKwU3icKFc&index=7&list=PLofrvEdzEgJSR5AQtXvx17esuGx45o7xZ
> 
> This is also posted here on my Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/112713113-r-u-mine


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